The Bourne Manipulation
by MidnightWaterLily
Summary: Jason tries to figure out who he is, was, and wants to be. Things get complicated when someone from his past enters the scene. PostUltimatum. Ultimatum Spoilers.
1. Unwell

A/N: This fanfiction is based on the movies, and not the books, as I am only just reading them now. It takes place shortly after the Bourne Ultimatum.

**Chapter One: Unwell**

_Wham._ "Sorry, sorry…." The young blonde apologized after slamming into Bourne. He had seen her coming down 22nd Street – walking hurriedly, and continuously glancing back. She had been glancing back when she walked into him, and was now several feet away. Jason's skilled eyes scanned the crowd – between the double-parked cars, and saw the follower. It was an older man. He was large and his expression was angry as he struggled to keep up with her.

Jason acted quickly – almost on a whim. He stepped out from the side walk onto the street and stopped the man.

"Excuse me…do you know how to get to Ground Zero from here?" He asked, staring the man hard in the face – hoping to distract him from looking around with darting eyes for the girl.

"Uh – Ground Zero?" He asked breathlessly, trying to take small steps around Jason to keep going.

"Yes."

The man mumbled some incorrect directs and hurried on. Jason knew that his object had disappeared.

The sights and sounds of the city were a comfort to him as he walked back to his apartment. The pedestrians – mostly dressed in black, whether it be business attire or hooded sweatshirts, the yellow cabs; beeping and swerving in and out around each other…it was a place that he could burry himself in – familiar, yet hostile all at the same time.

He had been hiding in this noisy urban for about 3 months – and he knew it was time to move again, but couldn't quite bring himself to do it. By putting it off, he was putting himself in danger, but New York had somehow become his comfort zone.

His apartment seemed dim and lonely when he flicked the lights on, and he decided to go back out – maybe to the diner. Goodness knows he had eaten out much more than he should've lately; just like a true New Yorker.

The diner down the street was fairly empty for a Tuesday night. The waitresses were grouped in a corner behind the counter, sharing the latest gossip about the affair going on between the cook and dishwasher. Jason settled into a booth – spreading the day's newspaper out in front of him.

One of the waitresses pried herself away from the huddle and took his order – the usual; steak and fries, followed by coffee.

"I'll have that right out for you." The slightly chunky woman told him between chews of gum. As she moved away a head of blonde across the restaurant caught his eye. It was the same girl from before. She was sitting by herself, laptop before her. Her eyes were bloodshot, as though she hadn't slept in days.

Suddenly he blanked out – gripping his head with searing pain….then an image – a hallway, it was the Treadstone headquarters….he was frustrated at someone, they wouldn't do what he told them to…something wasn't going according to plan….And that was it…He looked up again and shook his head as though the flashback were just a brain-freeze that could be gone with a shake of the head.

The girl left before him. She paid with a credit card, and left the signed receipt on the counter. Somehow Bourne knew that she would go to the ladies room before he left. It was almost like deja-vu.He quickly went up to the counter to leave his bill and cash on the counter, and looked at the signature. E. Windham. What was wrong with him? He couldn't justify his obsession with the girl – she was pretty, sure, but not pretty enough for him to start going mad. He tried to push all thoughts about her out of his mind as he walked away.

The hallway in his apartment building was dark when he entered it for the second time that night. Jason groped along the rough concrete wall for the light switch and flicked it on. The florescent lights hummed to life. Something was wrong…he sensed it, though nothing major pointed to it. He slowly and quietly turned his key…_click…_he was in.

The kitchen looked the same…everything was in place…the living room…bathroom…bedroom….nothing was out of order…no one was there. Was he going paranoid? He was never wrong about these things. Had someone been there? Maybe he just needed sleep. Or someone to talk to….

Instead of rolling into bed, he followed his instinct and opened his lap-top. His heart rate grew gradually faster as he typed in the name on the search site….E. Windham….

The first few matches were guys…and then a girl…a soccer player from Germany…not her…he scrolled down….nothing. Perhaps he really was going crazy after all.


	2. Euphoria

Chapter Two:

The apartment was empty. Never could he stay in any place long enough to call it home. Did he even want to be settled?. He couldn't decide…Though he definitely needed to be on the move, part of him wanted to stay here. It had been foolish of him to ever come to America. Yes, it was time to go.

Jason took the necessities – the valuables in his black leather briefcase, and the common things like clothing in his duffel bag. Everything was in order. The bills paid…the landlord had not been informed, but would find everything as he desired it.

The morning was crisp. The sky was still grey…waiting for the first rays of sun to splash it with color. He wished that he could stop in the coffee shop one more time…but knew that he couldn't. He turned to lock the door and paused – hand raised. A note was taped to the outside, written in female hand on plain printer paper.

_Thanks. – E.W._

Jason's heart pounded. E.W. E. Windham…Had she followed him here? Why was she thanking him? Had she waited in the shadows to trail him to his apartment merely to thank him for his help? Strange…Something was off. But he did not have time to think about it. Not now.

JFK was always busy, even during the early morning hours when most of the passengers were yawning and coming off of red eye flights. It was quiet…the employees were just getting into their days…the night-shift was leaving, the morning crew coming in.

It was always the same routine…bag check…security…finding the terminal…and waiting. He relaxed in the folding chair and let his chin rest on his chest, holding the briefcase close.

He tried to bring himself back to the place he had seen in his mind yesterday. Why had he been angry? Who with? He searched and searched, but came up blank. Now he was only frustrated with himself. _Let it go._ A voice in his head probed. But another part of him fought back. _No, I know it's there somewhere._ If only he could peel back the layers of memories…but they were cemented over, and it took a jackhammer to push through. A jackhammer that could not be produced on his own will. The jackhammer had a mind of its own, and it could either be a tool, or a weapon of mass destruction.

"_Now boarding zone 3." _Jason ran his hand across his face and stood up to join the line. He wondered briefly where those around him were headed from this flight to Denmark. Vacation? Home to see family? He spotted a group of exchange students wearing their college t-shirts, and a newly married couple on their honeymoon. They were an attractive couple…clearly enthralled with each other.

The line moved forward and Jason's mind when back to Marie. His chest filled with a small pain – a familiar pain that he was forever pushing away. He was a man who resisted pain – was trained to fight it, but this kind of pain was not something that had been taught about in any kind of training. _Stop it. She's dead._ He obeyed the voice this time. Romance had been a foolish move for him. Not that he had planned on getting involved with her – it just sort of happened, and it had been the most memorable time of his life. He laughed aloud – surprising himself. The most memorable…what a joke.

Some of his memories had come back…but not all of them. Not even most of them. Of his training at Treadstone…of the things he had been talked through, those he remembered, and regretted. Or did he? Why was his mind at constant war?

_-Denmark, September 8__th__-_

"Man, you're motivated." Jason's flat-mate commented. Jason had just come back from his morning work out, drenched in sweat. Fred, an apathetic twenty-something had been kicked out his house by his mum, and was a perfect description of the term _bum. _

"Yeah. That's what the military does to you, I guess." Jason smirked at the repulsive look on Fred's face. His parents had tried to push him into the Air Force, but he took his second option, and was now employed at a fast food restaurant, not quite making his parents proud, but not risking his lazy bottom nonetheless.

Jason sat on his bed, freshly showered, paging through a book from the library. He couldn't induce a desire to read. Maybe he had worked up a lot of energy that morning…he simply felt the need to _be in motion. _It was like an athlete's high.

He mumbled something to Fred and left for another jog. He would take a different route this time – make it more interesting. It felt so good to move…the air pounding through his lungs, his legs burning, his feet hitting the pavement…the euphoria lasted for about 45 minutes…and then he had to stop. He leaned over, resting his hands on his knees for support – gulping in air – head pulsating.

Something was familiar about the neighborhood. He closed his eyes – trying to picture the documents…Had he been on assignment in Denmark before? No. Not on assignment. White lights – twinkling…a warm contentedness…Was he finally breaking through and pulling out a memory? Or was his mind making it up. Would he ever know?

The weeks flew by. Jason got a job. He needed one, or he would've gone crazy. He was working at a junk yard, helping to sort through parts – find them for people. It was not satisfying, but it was keeping him sane. The men didn't question him – they all worked silently as he did. He did his job well, that was all they cared about.

Sometimes he was sent to go pick up machinery and such from other parts – sometimes far away. It was those long trips that made it possible for him to stay in Denmark longer.

"See you in two weeks." Louis, the owner of the junk yard, handed Jason his check and bid him a happy Christmas. The months had passed slowly. Jason would not return to his job after the New Year. He would be gone by then. He had been planning for a few weeks, getting his papers in order and everything.

He bent his head against the bitter wind, his steps crunched against the frozen gravel as he made his way back to his apartment. The streets were quiet. Everyone was either home with their families, or out getting drunk. A street lamp flickered…he was almost to the apartment now. The lamp flickered again, and went out completely. The alleyway that the post had stood in front of was now almost pitch black. Jason stopped, his instincts were driving him before he could register what was going on.

He pushed himself flat against the brick building, steadied his breathing, and watched…A lone figure, bundled in a down coat, emerged, tucking something into his pant pocket. The strange looked about alertly, and then hurried the opposite direction with purpose driven strides.

When the coast was clear, Jason moved into the alley and found a small body hidden among garbage bags. He pressed his fingers to the slender neck – a slow pulse revealed life. Jason hoisted the man over his shoulder – surprised at his lightness. He, too, checked both ways before making his way back to the apartment.

Fred was asleep on the couch – Jason moved quietly passed him and laid the stranger on his bed. His turned his lamp on, eager to get a look at the victim's face. His eyes widened as the light washed over the features of E. Windham.


	3. Submission

**Chapter Three: Submission**

Jason quickly looked the girl over. The chances of finding this Miss Windham coincidently were completely out of the question. His observations by the dim light of his bedroom gave little to no clues. She was dressed in dark-wash jeans, a green coat, and a sweater underneath – casual. Her face showed no signs of the fight – not a scratch or bruise. The wound was obvious – blood seeping through the green materiel of her coat from her stomach. She had been stabbed. 2" switchblade. Illegal in most countries.

He acted quickly – grabbing a towel, unzipping her jacket, and pressing the cloth against her abdomen. Her vitals were ok, not deathly– but definitely not good. He could call the cops, an ambulance – but then he would have to run, leaving no traces. He needed to talk to her before he released her to anyone else.

The bleeding slowed considerably within the hour. The mysterious figure had shown no signs of regaining consciousness. The wound was not as deep as Bourne had first anticipated – he could sew it easily. His hands moved the needle and thread expertly in and out of the skin. He had done this before. _When?_ He didn't know, but he knew how to do it now. He finished the stitches with a small knot. Good. Nothing internal had been severely damaged.

Another hour passed before the girl showed signs of coming to. She moaned a little…stirring. Jason was on her in an instant. Her eyes fluttered – then opened wide in surprise, taking in her surroundings. She tired to pull away with a sudden jerk when she turned her head to see Jason, but he leaned over her – giving her no idea of escape.

"Why are you here?" He demanded harshly. "Why did you follow me?"

Wide eyes stared back in terror. She lifted her hand to her head, and closed her eyes, trying to get a grasp on what was happening.

"Speak!" Jason would not be patient. He needed an answer now. He had kept her alive for this. He needed to know who she was.

"I…I came here to see my family for the holidays." She told him. Her voice was slightly shaky.

"No! I saw you in New York – you recognize me. I know it! Why are you here?" He repeated.

Her lips remained firmly together- her green eyes glared with defiance.

"I'm not playing games. I will find out. You will tell me." Jason stood. He needed air. He couldn't leave her alone. "What is it that you want?"

"Water." There was a touch of humor in her voice – though the rebellious look remained. She knew that was not what he had meant. He complied. Going into the kitchen gave him a chance to think some more – and he need not be afraid of her leaving. She was in no condition to escape.

Jason looked out across the street from his kitchen window as he filled the glass. Christmas lights blinked at him from the neighboring building. _Click._ Everything went black again – his mind was spinning – whirling out of control. The white lights…the warm contentedness…and her, _her_ face. She had been there. Whatever this memory was – E. Windham had definitely been there.

When he entered his room again, she had her sweater pulled up, fingers gliding across the stitches. "Did you…?"

He nodded, heat rose to his face. The sight of her bare stomach was improper now – though at the time it had been necessary. She read his face as he looked away, and pulled her shirt down again – reaching for the glass of water. "Thank you."

He stood at the end of the bed. These things – these interrogations, usually came simply to him. The right wording – the right way to handle it, filled his mind without thought. It was one of his skills, but now the words left him. The skill didn't guide him.

"You've been here before – at Christmas time." He started.

She stared at him, a shimmer of confusion passing over her face. She was reading him too.

"Yes. What are you getting at?"

He didn't want her to know that he didn't know. He didn't want his weakness to show – to become vulnerable to her.

"Why come back?"

"I told you – my family –"

"No! I don't care if you have family here or not – that's not why you're here. You're following me, and I want to know _why_? Who are you working for? What's in it for you? Money?"

She sighed and began in a softer tone. "Jason…" They both reacted to his name. She hadn't meant to use it, and he hadn't expected it.

Why couldn't he remember?! He needed to know, it was vital to extracting information from her now.

"Tell me!"

"You don't remember?" She was slightly hurt.

"Remember WHAT? Tell me now!" He demanded again. He would wake his flat-mate with his noise, but that didn't matter now. He was at the end of his rope.

"I had heard that you were suffering some memory loss. I didn't know the degree of your amnesia – or that it was still affecting you." Her tone remained soft, almost caring. It made Bourne angrier. How dare the stranger pretend to care about him – for heavens sake, just tell him what was going on. Who was tracking him?

"Treadstone, Jason. Do you really not recall any of it?"

"Some. Not you. Is that what this is about? Treadstone sent you?" His mind went to the gun sitting in the first drawer of his dresser, but he knew he wouldn't use it. Not now.

"No! I came by myself. Just listen." She waited for some sign of obedience, and he nodded, gritting his teeth.

"I came to Treadstone after you. You had already been through all of your training at that point – and it was successful. They were starting to depend on you – send you on missions. You were brilliant – unstoppable, undetectable, infallible. I was part of the next batch – I was to go through the same training you had, which was no longer experimental – in fact, you were my trainer."

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A/N: I hope you're enjoying this. Any comments/reviews would be greatly appreciated. I'd love to know what you think! – Midnight Water Lily


	4. Interrogation

**A/N: I'll be gone through Friday, so there won't be any updates for a few days. Leave me lots of reviews, let me know what you think, like, or don't like. Thanks!**

**Chapter Four: Interrogation **

"In fact…_you_ were my trainer."

Jason's breath caught, but she held a hand up to stop him from interrupting.

"We worked together for about 2 months. But then I stopped."

"You stopped?" He couldn't stop himself this time. Nobody just _stops _Treadstone. It's kill or be killed. This he knew well.

….

_Berlin. 1974_

"I'm done. I can't do this anymore." Her face showed all the innocence she had given up to become one of them.

"You're almost done!" Jason's grip was tight- it hurt her arm, his gaze pierced hers.

"Jason, _please_!" The ache in her chest came again as she stared into his eyes. Those blue eyes had conveyed so much to her. She had fallen for them – fallen hard. Yet she knew that she couldn't have him. Her personal feelings could not be mixed in with this – actually, personal feelings were supposed to nonexistent. How could she fall for someone who had been so hard on her anyway? What she had been through was torture.

But she had seen the other side of him. The part of him that was softer – under the muscle and toughness- he was capable of caring. She had seen it on the street, when she was supposed to be killing the son of a target. The boy was frightened. He had been so frightened…

"_Go." Bourne's words had shocked her. "Do you hear me? Go!" He shouted at the little boy, but it got his attention, he snapped out of it and darted off._

"_He wasn't there." Jason had lied later. The plan had been fool proof, but they let it go. Its only purpose had been for her to kill anyway. _

And then again. The night leading up to her escape. She had been through an incredibly hard day. She was walking back to her quarters and met him in the hall.

"How's it going?" Jason asked. She brought herself to look at his face. She felt so weak and helpless – trapped.

"I…" she looked down again quickly, trying to hide the feelings that were overcoming her. This was her supervisor. Her instructor. He had gained her awe and respect. And now he read her easily, not only is amazing EQ – but the fact that he knew her well.

She had not been sure who was more surprised at the gesture, but Jason had reached out and pulled her close. She was so close to him. His strong arms enwrapped her, but she remained stiff. How long had she wanted just this – to lean against his chest, to have him care for her? And now, she couldn't bring herself to do it. It was too much. Too out of character for him – even if he really did mean the gesture. If she gave in now, and let herself cry on his shoulder, it would only hurt more later.

"And you left?" He asked. He did not know the scene that had just been playing in her mind.

"Yes. You helped me. It went against everything that you had been taught, but you helped me escape, and I've been in hiding ever since."

"So what are you doing here?" He asked the question for the umpteenth time.

"I had to see for myself – that you were still alive. I wanted to know what you were doing now. I couldn't figure it out. Your actions- they don't follow a pattern."

"That's it? You put your neck on the line to check up on me? You're alone?" He didn't believe her – though no lie was written on her face.

"Yes. That's it. I've been running…hiding, for so long now. I couldn't believe that you were no longer working with them. I had to know."

"And look where it got you." He said carelessly – waving a hand to indicate her stabbed body.

"It doesn't matter." She said quietly. "Now I know."

"What? What is it that you know now?" He didn't know why he was being so harsh – he just felt like yelling.

She was silent for a minute, and then, "I know that you're not who they made you anymore. You broke free."

He stopped pacing, and sat on a chair. "You call this free? If what you say is true, and you've been running for all these years, you know this isn't free."

"That's not the kind of freedom I'm talking about. You know that."

She was right. He knew what she meant. It was just a shock to him. Here was someone who knew what he had been like. Was he embarrassed? No. It wasn't his fault. Saving American lives. That's all he had been in it for. He hadn't known.

"Yes. I know." Suddenly it struck him that he hadn't found out what she was called, after all this time.

"What's your name?"

"What?"

"Your name. E. Windham. What's it stand for?"

"Elise."

The name did not trigger any memories for him, but the fact that she knew more about his past actions than he did bothered him.

"Ok, _Elise_, it would probably be good if we both got some rest." It was six in the morning. He was exhausted – physically and emotionally. The interrogation had definitely been tolling. It was at such times of pressure that he was supposed to try and force himself to remember be things, but he could not. Not tonight.


	5. Pursuit

**A/N: Thank you so much for your reviews. As to the date that was mentioned earlier, the beginning of the book by Robert Ludlum sets the day Bourne in found by the fishermen around the year 1975. By the end of the trilogy it's much closer to present day. When I mentioned the date it was a flashback.**

**Chapter Five**

Jason was not there when Elise woke late the next day. The bedroom was bare – stripped of all personal possessions. Two suitcases stood by the door. The fan and the running water of the shower could be heard from the bathroom.

Jason came out a few minutes later – his hair damp, and smelling faintly of aftershave. She tried to sit up in the bed, but he could tell by the grimace on her face that it hurt – a lot.

"Are you leaving?" she asked, falling back against the pillow.

"Not yet."

"You're packed."

"You're not ready yet."

"I'll be fine." She knew the importance of haste to his situation.

"I can't leave you, unable to move, in an apartment with Fred of all people."

She did not ask who Fred was – it did not matter to her at the moment. "I can take care of myself." Her eyes held the same stubborn defiance he had seen the night before. "You _would _know. You taught me half of my working knowledge." Her voice was on the edge of defense.

"Whether or not you can hold your own is not an issue when you're immobilized." He pointed out.

She had no argument. He was right. She did not want him to be.

"So what's your plan?" she asked – looking up at the ceiling. "Why don't you just leave, call the ambulance to come get me, and that's that?"

"They'd know I'd been here."

"They already know you're here." Elise counter-argued.

"My flight leaves tomorrow morning." Jason told her. It was risky, staying here, with her missing. They might put two and two together and find a warm trail.

"You say you've lived here before?" He asked. He was typing something on his laptop as he spoke.

"Yes. I grew up here. My parents still live about an hour from this town. They would…" her voice trailed off, leaving his typing as the only sound. He did not stop.

"What about your parents?" He asked rather roughly.

"Nothing, never-mind." She wouldn't remind him of the time they had spent together here. He did not need to hear that now, if he didn't remember, perhaps that was for the best.

Bourne looked up at her curiously for a moment, and then back to his lap top. He could not bother with her girlish rattling.

"Oi, what's up?" Fred came and stood in the doorway – his hand in a bag of crisps. He was staring openmouthed at Elise.

"I've never known you to bring a girl home before." Fred winked at Jason, and smiled broadly at Elise.

Elise cast a loathing look at Jason, wondering how he'd get them out of this mess.

"Well if you'd get off your but and go out once in awhile, perhaps you'd get yourself a girl too." Jason didn't seem to pause for a second to think.

"And now you're running off together? I know you're packed. Don't just sneak off on me."

"Well it's hardly private here. We'll be gone by the morning." Jason stood up and nudged Fred, who had not taken his eyes off Elise the entire time he had been standing there. He pushed him away enough to shut the door.

Elise shifted uncomfortably in the bed.

"Where are you going to go?"

"It's none of your concern. I'll drop you off at your parent's house on the way out."

She did not respond to this, and in the next few minutes of silence, she fell asleep again. Jason continued booking his ticket, and looking up places on the Scottish tourism site. Nothing seemed to strike much a bell – but he was able to find some cheap hotels and such in out-of the way places. Maybe he would be able to figure more out when he got there. That desperate need filled his chest and mind again at the thought of it.

The need to be someone – something. More than a memory, more than someone running away from who they used to be. When would he find peace?

It was four o'clock in the afternoon. Elise was still sleeping, and Jason was hungry. He rose to go to the kitchen, but as he turned the handle on his bedroom door he heard loud knocking.

"POLICE! OPEN UP!" The knocking repeated. Fred's feet could be heard shuffling across the floor.

Jason spun around quickly – calling Elise's name, and reaching for his laptop. He shoved the computer in a backpack along with a few other items at hand.

"We've got to go - now!" She was still groggy, and not fully comprehending what was going on. He quickly opened the window and then turned to her. She couldn't walk very well, but she would have to come with him anyway. He scooped her up and climbed awkwardly out of the window and down the fire escape.

The sky was dark – grey with snow clouds. The alleyway between the buildings was silent. He could hear the police still shouting in the apartment above.

He turned the opposite direction from the road and wove through the housing units – still caring her. He ran until he came out on another street.

A lone car was driving down, and Jason rushed to it. They rolled their window down.

"Please! She needs to go to the hospital quickly! Can you bring us?" Jason asked urgently.

The driver nodded and unlocked the doors – Jason jumped in the backseat.

"She's fallen and I think her leg is broken." He lied to the driver, who was glancing back worriedly as he drove over the speed limit to get to the hospital. Elise's arm was still around his neck, and her legs were draped over his knees – in the position they had fallen when he sat down.

The hospital was only a few minutes away, and Jason thanked the driver again and again as they got out onto the side walk.

"What are we doing?" Elise whispered as he watched the car pull away.

"Leaving, quickly." He replied. There were a few taxis lined up on the curb of the large hospital, as he had known would be. One of them pulled up as they stood there for a minute.

"Airport?" Jason asked in English. The driver nodded. They had their way out.

The airport was not as crowded – it was the day before Christmas Eve. Everyone was rushing to be home with their family.

Elise shivered against him as he stood outside the revolving doors, surveying the scene. Neither of them were dressed for the weather. She was wearing his sweatpants and a t-shirt. Jason was dressed a bit more decently in black pants and a grey pollo shirt. He held her gaze for a moment, analyzing what he was about to put her through, then broke the contact.

"You're going to have to walk a little." He told her, and tilted her so that her feet touched the ground. She stood shakily and leaned heavily on his arm. Together they walked through the revolving doors and into the chaotic airport.

Jason immediately identified the positions of all security personnel and cameras. He steered Elise to a crowded row of chairs, and let her drop into one of the empty ones.

"I'll be right back – don't move." He instructed, and disappeared into the sea of faces.

**I will try to fill the requests for flashbacks in upcoming chapters. Please continue to review and let me know your thoughts! **


	6. Memories

Chapter 6

"Ready to go?" Jason proffered his arm to Elise.

"Where exactly are we going?" she asked as she struggled to her feet.

"First, to get a new set of clothes for you, and then to Scotland." He held out the tickets to show her.

"Scotland…"she mulled the destination over for a moment.

At a store in the terminal they were able to purchase a Denmark t-shirt with the flag on the front. The sweatpants were kept – due to the comfort needed across her stitches, though a pair of jeans was bought as well. A black coat completed the look. Jason also bought a change of clothes, though he kept his current outfit on. A duffel bag from the store stowed all of their extra items.

Jason purposely steered them toward the wrong airport terminal –and they took seats among France-bound customers. Elise shivered as they watched the news. "I'll go get some coffee." Jason offered.

"I'm fine." Elise insisted firmly, but he walked off anyway.

Something seemed amiss as he headed for the café across from the terminal. Was someone following him? He changed his destination to a further point. He ducked into a shop. The person followed. He left and went toward the bathroom. Again, the stranger mirrored his action at a distance. Jason hurried back to the terminal without the coffee- he couldn't leave Elise by herself if they were being watched.

He was too late – he skidded to a stop as he watched a man sit next to Elise and commence conversation.

_Don't say anything…don't give us away…_He wished he could telepathically impress his thoughts upon her.

Carefully he walked a terminal over and watched the conversation. The man was dressed in a navy business suit – with an over-large jacket. His eyebrows were dark and his face in need of a good shave. He seemed to be pretending not to know English – waving his arms about in explanatory gestures. Jason's further surprise was in Elise – who caught on quickly, pointing to a nearby desk and suggesting assistance there. The man tried to pretend not to understand and ask some friendly questions about her travels. Rather strange – not the way these people normally operated – they were coming out of the shadows and drawing attention to themselves. Well now they would regret it.

As the man moved away, Jason zeroed in, quickly occupying the empty seat.

"I think we've been caught." Elise told him uncaringly.

"We're not trapped yet. They won't strike in such a crowded area." Jason told her.

"I know. But as soon as we get out of the airport in Scotland we'll be in trouble."

"We'll be fine." Jason's confidence was not arrogant, but firm, and though she would never have admitted it – it comforted her.

Jason watched her face as it screwed up in pain – she had shifted positions in her seat and it had hurt her injury. She should not have been put in a situation that would stress the body like this – but they had no choice.

- - -

"It's time to go." Jason nudged Elise from her sleepy position an hour later and led them to the correct terminal. A shadow darted behind – unwilling to come face to face with Bourne himself.

They were boarding their row and the two fell right into line. The shadow joined the line as well. They wouldn't shake the follower yet.

Elise was in the window seat. Jason was next to her, and a teenager was sprawled into the aisle. Jason was acutely aware that the shady figure sat four rows behind them to the left – aisle seat.

"Are you going to get some rest?" He asked.

"I don't know. I'm not feeling very well." She told him. The truth was that this trip was stirring up some of her memories – traveling with Jason. Their missions had never been too far from the Treadstone Safe House, but always different – always moving.

"_How many open seats are there on the plane?" Jason had asked as the plane began to taxi the runway. They were about to continue the training in Italy. The plane was small – she didn't trust it. There were well-tanned, dark haired people everywhere. Some wore lots of silver and gold jewelry and spoke very fast._

"_Three." Elise answered, hoping she was right. Jason seemed to have an inhuman ability for these sort of things and she never knew what question he would spring on her next – but with each new quiz she became more and more observant. It seemed to be too much to keep track of at first, but with time she was growing used to it. _

"_Good. And where are the exits?" He asked._

_She told him, without looking. Good. She had passed this round. She hadn't slept in hours, and he wouldn't let her nod off quite yet. "Always aware." Was his rule. Many cups of coffee had been her key to getting through at first, and then he had taken that option away from her. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping her motivated – and sometimes that wore off too. _

"_Did you play hide and seek when you were a kid?" Jason asked when they landed._

"_Yes, of course." She answered, fairly sure that she knew where this was leading._

"_Good. I'm it." He sent her a playful grin and disappeared into the crowd at the airport. It was amazing how fast he was able to leave her sight- and how lost she seemed without him. Did she search the airport? Outside the airport? Local hotels? Or would that be too obvious. _

"_There are always clues." Jason's voice sounded through her mind. "Always clues…" _

_What had he mentioned about Italy? Some restaurants he liked, a job he had done, some evidence that had been found…where? He would want to go back and see the mess that he had missed. _

_Elise hailed a taxi and ordered the driver to a small residential village in Southern Italy, by the shore. She proceeded on foot for a few blocks, looking in alleyways and peering around corners. The taxi stayed put on her order. She had him circle around the town once – and then saw a restaurant that Bourne had mentioned. This was it – it had to be. _

_She paid the driver and walked inside – trying to casually look for him. _

"_A table for one?" The host asked._

"_Yes, please." She sat down and ordered water. There was no sign of Jason. The bathroom? She left for the ladies room – and discovered by watching the door that there was only one stall in the men's room, and Jason wasn't in it. _

_She sighed and looked to the door again – Jason's back faced her as he headed out of the Italian eatery. She quickly left some money on the table and rushed outside. She frantically searched to the right and left – nothing. Which way first? The left side of the street had more possibilities to hide, so she chose that direction. It was hard to remind herself to travel quietly. Her feet pounding on the gravel would indicate her approach to anyone listening. _

_She went down a side street and found an abandoned stucco house with the door ajar. There was a disturbance in the dust on the walkway. Someone had definitely been inside recently. She forced herself to breath through her nose…the adrenaline had kicked in full force. Her target could be anywhere – and could disappear while she searched the vicinity. _

_She stood still in the entrance – listening…her heartbeat was the loudest noise. Would he go upstairs? No, that would lock him in if someone were searching for him. She chose to go toward the kitchen which was empty and falling apart. She quietly opened the cupboard door and peered inside – ready to jump at the slightest noise._

_The dining room table was missing a leg, and slanted at an odd angle on the remaining three. Her steps sounded throughout the house. She was aware of every noise, and continuously glanced back at the entrance – making sure no one left. She rounded another corner – the sitting room. There were no windows – it was almost completely dark inside. Her hands trembled as she timidly entered, checking all the corners and reaching for the handle to the linen closet. _

_As silently as a ghost – a strong hand covered her mouth, stifling her scream. She struggled and fought against the imposter._

_The stranger tried to pin her arms down – he was much stronger than she was – but she was faster. Within a second she had spun free and was about to send a hard kick to his chest – _

_It was too late – she recognized him just as she was about to make the blow, and in stopping herself ended up pushing him to the floor all the same. _

_A look of slight surprise filled his face for a moment, and then he smiled up at her._

"_That was pretty good." He admitted – jumping to his feet. _

"_You shouldn't scare me like that." She scolded._

"_Nah, it's good to be prepared. It might not have been me after all. But seriously, you can drop the act now." He grinned and rubbed a bruise forming on his arm._


End file.
